


golden

by chatsdelune (greymooses)



Series: golden-verse [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Sports, Archery, Beach Volleyball, Cat Cafés, Cooking, Found Family, Getting Together, Height Differences, Kim Mingyu is Whipped, Lee Jihoon | Woozi is Whipped, M is for Adult Themes or whatever but no real naked smut, M/M, Mingyu is a flirt, Mutual Pining, Olympics, One Night Stands, Rain, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Texting, also a film student i'm sorry for the cliche, bowling, i could never tag it all you're just gonna have to trust me, minor ships jeongcheol junshua seoksoon verkwan taekook and a bonus at the end, random tags for various plot points incoming!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymooses/pseuds/chatsdelune
Summary: lee jihoon picked up his first bow at six, won his first competition at twelve, and learned about soulmates at fourteen, in school with everyone else.he went to his first olympics at twenty, and had his first kiss, then, too: his university roommate, at a dumb party where they both got a little too drunk.he had his first one night stand at twenty-two, because relationships aren't something he has time or energy for. at twenty-four, he has his tenth.if he knew it would be his last, he might have done some things differently, if he's honest.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: golden-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942252
Comments: 15
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo. this is a fic that i started at the end of june. if you've read the couple of works i've posted since then, this is what i've been (very affectionately) referring to as "the hellbeast". it was started for a fest that i have since dropped out of for reasons, so here we are. i have... a lot of feelings but i'll save them for the end note. posting shit that you've spent months on is so nerve wracking, so i very truly hope that someone enjoys this, and maybe the person who submitted the prompt will magically find it anyway.
> 
> there are a couple of links to what i consider Important Reference Images scattered throughout, but [archer!jihoon](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/46/19/70/461970baecdd8386e03a666f9195c28c.jpg) is a whole Thing. title is bc of [the harry styles song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enuYFtMHgfU), though a "simple" lyric was a strong contender. [no judgement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwaBeJ1B7KA) is their theme song tbh.

lee jihoon picked up his first bow at six, won his first competition at twelve, and learned about soulmates at fourteen, in school with everyone else.

tattoos, the instructor said, can appear when you have what is considered a significant interaction with the person you're fated to be with — matching or corresponding images, colors, patterns, or simply identical locations. the science was always too sketchy for jihoon to take it seriously.

he went to his first olympics at twenty, and had his first kiss, then, too: his university roommate, at a dumb party where they both got a little too drunk.

he had his first one night stand at twenty-two, because relationships aren't something he has time or energy for. at twenty-four, he has his tenth. if he knew it would be his last, he might have done some things differently, if he's honest.

🏹

jihoon hates clubs. the dark, the noise, the stench of stale sweat and too much cologne. nonetheless, they're a useful tool for someone like him, and so he goes, because being sexually frustrated doesn't help him hit the center of his targets.

he wouldn't say he has commitment issues, but soonyoung would.

has.

more than once.

he's on his second drink, not quite ready to force himself to mingle, when a warm body slips up to the bar next to him. the guy is very tall and could probably bench press him. his dark hair is slicked back, half of his shirt buttons are undone, and he's wearing very tight leather pants with heeled boots that seem wholly unnecessary for someone who's already a giant, but he's [objectively attractive](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ed/73/80/ed7380e88c29a77cfe7a3d12b85785ec.jpg), jihoon supposes.

he orders two more shots from the bartender, leans his elbows on the bar, and says, "top here often?"

jihoon nearly does a spit take. "what?"

the guy smiles at him. "i asked if you come here often. i don't remember seeing you before."

this is the part that bores him: the frivolous small talk, the unimportant bullshit when they both know the goal is to get off sometime in the next two hours.

before he can answer, another guy comes bouncing over. like, literally bouncing, throwing his head back and forth on the beat of whatever noise is playing on the dance floor he came off. he's not as tall as the bar-leaner, but still basically tree-sized, tattoos scattered along his right hand and forearm. jihoon wonders who they're all for.

"gyu," he whines, drawing out the end of the syllable, "why did you leave?"

jihoon sees the bartender approaching with shots, drains the rest of his drink, and signals for a refill.

"can't get more shots in the middle of the dance floor," bar-leaner tells his friend, passing one glass over his shoulder to the tattooed grabby hand behind him. he knocks back his own, then angles his body towards jihoon and says, "can't take a shot from the middle of the dance floor, either."

his confidence is astounding, jihoon will grant him that much.

a third man joins them, slinks up behind tattoo boy and wraps his arms around his waist without a word, drops his chin onto one shoulder and clings. a boyfriend or abandoned dance partner, jihoon doesn't know and doesn't care.

he taps bar-leaner on the wrist, motions with two fingers for him to come closer, and speaks next to his ear so the noise around them doesn't devour the words. "is your place close enough to be naked in ten minutes?"

"fifteen, max."

jihoon nods, because whatever, and empties his glass. he can feel the guy watching him, but when he turns to meet his eyes he looks soft instead of predatory. friendly. better than this scene, really.

🏹

not calling it off right there?

that was his first mistake.

🏹

jihoon never gives his real name and is rarely interested in theirs. he never takes them to his place. he absolutely never cuddles.

so when bar-leaner purrs, "i'm mingyu," into jihoon's ear, a footnote as he works his lips across his jaw and down his neck, jihoon shrugs it off with a "that's nice" and hopes it doesn't come up again.

his back is pressed into the wall, his legs wrapped around the tree's waist, supported by hands clasped under his ass, and he tries valiantly to forget the piece of irrelevant information he's just been given.

the tree shifts, replacing his hands with a thigh so he can work open the buttons on jihoon's shirt as he mouths at his collarbone. jihoon groans, because it's taking too long, and taps him on the shoulder. "bed."

he doesn't even pull his mouth away, just brings his hands back under jihoon's ass and hikes him up his body a little so he can walk them to the bedroom while still sucking bruises into his skin.

the name rolls off his tongue when he's eventually balls deep in bar-leaner's ass, head thrown back as his orgasm uncoils itself and strikes like a python. "gyu, let go," he commands, with one perfect angle shift against the whining mess under him, and mingyu does.

🏹

his second mistake, or maybe the third or fifth, it's hard to tell.

 _gyu_ , like they're fucking friends or something.

🏹

jihoon gets dressed while mingyu is in the bathroom. his [clothes](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/08/38/91/0838914363225a3e8f236ac0d07c82e2.jpg) feel uncomfortable now that their purpose has been fulfilled and all he wants is to get home, shower, pull on sweats, and go to bed. he's halfway across the apartment, his shoes and the door in sight, when mingyu emerges and clears his throat.

"can i have your number?" he asks. jihoon thinks he sounds less confident than at the club, but maybe it's just the alcohol leaving both of their systems.

he waits until he has his shoes in hand before turning. "i don't think that's a good idea," he replies flatly. the tree pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, so he adds, "have a good night," and he gets the fuck out.

🏹

a week later, jihoon has mostly forgotten about the sex and the sad smile when he didn't want to hand over his number. it did what it was supposed to: loosened him up so he could shoot again. next time, he'll go to a different club, just like he always does, and let someone else pick him up, and min—the tree, will be another notch on his proverbial bed post.

he tells himself all of this, and he told soonyoung all of this over dinner a few days ago, which is why when he's working with his new coach on monday afternoon, he uncharacteristically shoots an arrow into a tree.

a literal tree, because he sees _the_ tree.

he's standing in the doorway leading onto the practice range, dressed in jeans and a cardigan, so probably not someone here to practice. the coach is selective anyway; he runs through a mental list of all his recent competitors and doesn't recall a mingyu.

"hey, dad? kihyun-ssi is on the phone and he sounds annoyed," he hollers, not waiting for a response before going back inside.

if he knows who jihoon is, he showed no sign of it. granted, he's wearing very different clothing and a baseball cap, but mingyu didn't even look in his direction.

his coach excuses himself with an apology. jihoon thumbs his bowstring.

_dad._

well, shit.

🏹

mingyu is at the desk inside the office when jihoon leaves, feet kicked up on the edge, a sketchbook open in his lap. he looks up when jihoon enters, and recognition flashes on his face in the second before he looks down again.

great.

"hey," jihoon says before he can stop himself.

"can i help you?" mingyu asks sweetly, not looking up from his drawing this time.

"your dad said to get a key from you, and i wanted to make sure we were okay."

mingyu reaches a hand into the desk drawer, pulls out a gold key, and places it on the edge of the desk. "jihoon-ssi, i have no idea what you're talking about."

jihoon narrows his eyes at him. "do you really not—"

mingyu cuts him off with a heavy sigh and snaps his sketchbook shut, tossing his pen onto the desk. "of course i do, but you made it abundantly clear you never wanted to see me again. since that's not an option, we can at least stay out of each other's way."

it stings in a way it shouldn't, because he's right.

jihoon steps forward to grab the key. mingyu stares, arms crossed, like a pissed off guard dog. jihoon slips the key in his pocket, because getting them on his keychain is always a pain in the ass and he doesn't want to stand around.

"yeah, okay. bye, mingyu-ssi."

🏹

his friends laugh when he tells them, at the end of their weekly dinner.

they're stunned into silence at first, but then the reactions come in a deluge: seungcheol snorts, hansol's emotionless mask breaks, and soonyoung curls in on himself in the corner of the booth laughing deep from his chest. they receive death glares from the surrounding patrons of the restaurant they're in, and at least one of the waitstaff. jihoon almost walks out in the thirty seconds it takes them all to calm down.

"i'm sorry, please don't hurt us," seungcheol eventually gets out. "we're laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, not your negative feelings about it, which are very valid."

"so valid," soonyoung adds, nodding. "it sucks when you unexpectedly run into your best one night stand again."

jihoon rolls his eyes. "you were a virgin until three months after you started dating seokmin."

"i watch a lot of television."

"it could be worse, hyung. the sex could've been terrible," hansol chimes in, deadpan.

jihoon is so caught off guard that he starts the round of giggling this time, and they all decide to leave before they get kicked out.

he and hansol say goodbye to seungcheol and soonyoung in front of the restaurant, then split in two opposite directions to head to their respective homes. hansol was quiet during dinner, observing more than anything, but with soonyoung and seungcheol gone, he's not shy about sharing his opinion.

"i'm sorry you have to face mingyu every day, but it might be good for you."

"i can't deal with another commitment lecture," jihoon snaps.

unfairly. he's tired.

"soonyoung hyung did that, don't put it on me."

"you're right. sorry."

"i'm saying you never give people a chance."

"kind of too late for that."

"i doubt it. you should apologize so it doesn't affect your training, at least."

"why would you think it would affect my training?" jihoon asks, unsure if he feels more betrayed by hansol, or his own memory of shooting an arrow into a tree when he saw mingyu in the doorway.

"because i know you."

jihoon makes a defeated noise as they approach hansol's street.

hansol claps him on the shoulder. "see you next week? you know you can call me if you need anything."

"i will. thanks for your insight, even though i didn't ask for it."

hansol throws a grin over his shoulder, along with a wave, and jihoon lets his legs carry him the last block to his own building.

🏹

it takes almost a week of hitting nothing higher than an eight, extreme frustration from his coach, and a failed attempt at picking someone up at a new club for jihoon to accept that hansol was probably right. he has to apologize.

he knows mingyu is around, saw him earlier when he took a break, sitting in the office with a laptop and camera in front of him, staring intently at the screen. he's in the same position still, and doesn't look up when jihoon shuffles in with all his gear, on his way home.

"i owe you an apology."

there's a pause, a few clicks of the trackpad before mingyu asks, "for what, exactly?" he remains focused on his screen and says it in a way that suggests it's rhetorical. a test.

"not going over terms, i guess. i'm sorry if i made you feel used? it was never about you."

"i figured that out pretty quickly, yeah."

"i didn't expect to see you again, but you're here, and your dad is my best chance at a medal, and i haven't hit a ten all week."

mingyu looks up at that, locks eyes with him and jihoon feels like he's standing too close to a fire.

"accepted, i guess," he finally says, face unreadable. "move on and nail your ends guilt-free, jihoon-ssi."

"that's not why i'm—"

"i'm kinda on a deadline," mingyu interrupts dismissively. "i get it, really. it's okay."

jihoon isn't convinced, but he's clearly no longer welcome, so he leaves.

🏹

the next few days are better, but certainly not on par with his normal performance. mingyu is nowhere to be seen, which is a blessing in a way, but not enough of one to improve his focus to where it needs to be. he makes one too many stupid mistakes for someone of his caliber and his coach tells him to go home for the rest of the week — "fix your head, come back on monday," he says, then walks away.

jihoon spends the first day inside his apartment pouting and cooking and watching the trashiest dramas he can find. soonyoung drops by at night — unannounced, but jihoon knew what would happen when he disclosed earlier in the day that he was banned from the range. he eats some of jihoon's food without asking and demands they watch a different show, but he doesn't ask questions. overall it's really nice, at least until he pulls a stuffed tiger out of his bag and places it carefully between them on jihoon's sofa.

"why?"

"why not?" soonyoung answers, shrugging. "you can borrow her to sleep with, just don't drool on her."

there are so many things jihoon could say, but soonyoung has turned his attention back to the television. jihoon hugs the stuffed animal to his chest instead, before leaning sideways into soonyoung's lap. he pulls his arm out from under jihoon's shoulder and rests it down the length of his side.

they've been friends for a long time. could've been something more, if jihoon wasn't obsessed with the idea of his first olympic games. the window closed when soonyoung literally ran into seokmin outside a convenience store one night, but he's always been okay with that. seokmin is exactly what soonyoung needs. jihoon is too rigid, too obsessed with his sport.

a loud noise from the television makes soonyoung jump slightly, enough to pull jihoon out of his thoughts. "what's her name?" he asks, stroking the fur of a paw with one finger.

"tonks."

"thanks, soonie."

🏹

jihoon will never admit it — can _never_ admit it — but he sleeps better with tonks. he wakes up on day two of his range ban, stretches his limbs out in bed, and checks his phone: 5:04.

at 5:06, he decides the range ban can fuck itself.

archery is so much a part of him at this point that he can't imagine not shooting, even if he doesn't meet the standards he usually imposes on himself. 

he does the bare minimum to be presentable — washes his face and brushes his teeth, pulls on a clean pair of track pants and a hoodie, hides his hair inside his lucky hat — before grabbing his gear and leaving his apartment.

he arrives at the range fifteen minutes later, finding the parking lot empty, as expected.

jihoon locks the door behind himself and heads directly through the office and outside again. he takes a few minutes to assemble his bow, then sets it aside to stretch. when he's done, he grabs his bow and walks out into the field.

he shoots as many arrows as he can, mentally tallying his shots, until he empties his quiver. it's a cool morning, and quiet enough to hear birds flit about in the trees, talking to each other. it's hypnotic when combined with the sounds of his sport, from the bow being drawn and the gentle noise of his clicker to the release and the thud that echoes back at him from his target.

he collects his arrows, then does it all over again.

and again.

he looks at his phone after the third round and realizes he's been shooting for almost two hours. his coach probably won't come in for another two, but he doesn't want to push his luck, so he returns to the main building — and his bag sitting outside the door.

he's putting his bow away when he sees an envelope, pinned between his bag and the ground. he picks it up with one hand and holds it between his arm and chest to open it, half-assembled equipment forgotten in his hand. inside is a single polaroid of him, from today. his bow is drawn, everything about his stance nearly perfect. behind him, sunlight pours through the branches of the trees.

jihoon panics for a second before the likely explanation hits him. he flips the photo over, nervous and mentally preparing to put his bow back together in case he's wrong, to hunt the stalker who followed him here, but smiles to himself when he finds a scribbled message:

> _the trees looked pretty._   
>  _too bad you were in the way._   
>  _— mingyu_   
>  _ps - don't sneak in tomorrow, he'll be here early._

he slips the photo back into the envelope, the envelope into his pocket, and finishes packing up his gear.

🏹

mingyu is back on monday, hunched over his laptop again with an iced coffee set in front of his keyboard, straw against his lips. it's barely seven, and jihoon's stress level is approaching apoplectic after a long weekend of no shooting, but mingyu looks _soft_ in his dumb sweater with his [dumb sweater paws](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/de/3f/70/de3f703367446725fb264e1cb8051bc0.jpg) and the words slip out before he has a chance to think about them.

"you could've said hi the other day instead of making me think i have a stalker."

he watched more television over the weekend, cleaned his apartment, and thought about the photograph. mingyu leaving it for him, and the message on the back, was puzzling at first, until soonyoung pointed out it's the kind of thing seokmin would do if he felt guilty about something. the pieces started to fall into place yesterday morning, with the photograph pinned to his table under the weight of his index finger as he drank his coffee.

he'd been treating mingyu like a stranger, like he knew nothing about how the man ticked, but that's categorically false. he knows mingyu is too good for the club where they met, and he wanted jihoon's number. he's been an asshole to jihoon here at the range, but maybe the ice can be melted — because for some reason jihoon doesn't want to think about, he wants it to be. 

maybe it's not all mingyu's fault, either. his apology _was_ kind of shitty.

"you looked too focused to disturb. i was only here for a few minutes to look for a memory card, anyway."

"and to take my picture."

mingyu clicks his mouse and taps a few keys before responding, apathetic. "i take pictures of a lot of things."

"can i ask what you're doing?"

mingyu narrows his eyes at him. "editing. are you trying to get in my pants again?"

"oh my god, i'm sorry i asked," jihoon replies, rolling his eyes.

"ask any time, especially if it's about getting—" mingyu starts, cutting himself off with a laugh as jihoon walks away.

🏹

mingyu is around more that week. during jihoon's lunch break on wednesday, he explains in between clicks and keystrokes that he has a film project due soon. mostly, though, he works and jihoon eats while scrolling through his social media. occasionally he shares a meme or post that makes him smile, and he discovers mingyu has a weakness for dogs approximately one-tenth his size.

on friday, jihoon walks into the office at noon and finds mingyu removing take out containers from a bag and placing them on the desk next to two cups of iced coffee. 

he shuffles past, muttering a "hey," as he goes.

mingyu startles, but recovers quickly. "hey, i got too much food. eat with me."

jihoon turns, glances from the spread on the desk to mingyu's face. he sees a flash of something he recognizes, openness and maybe a hint of fear. he sighs, tugs on the arm of the spare chair to pull it to the desk, and says with as much sympathy as he can muster, "i hate when i accidentally order two coffees."

the smirk on mingyu's face is worth it.

he dreams of the olympics, that whole week and the next. sees himself, bow drawn, korean flag on the arm of his shirt and in the stands around him.

the range he stands in is full of daffodils.

🏹

"the thing about mingyu," jihoon tells seungcheol, "is i don't want to think about him, but he's _always_ there, being tall and bundled in hoodies or sweaters that i could probably fit inside, too."

seungcheol nods like he understands.

"i specifically tried to avoid this by not giving him my number," jihoon sighs.

seungcheol tilts his head. "what do you mean?"

"getting pulled into his orbit. i don't have _time_."

"he knows what you do. you might be surprised by how little he requires, or how much you actually have available," seungcheol replies.

" _jihoon-ssi_." a whisper in the corner of the room. jihoon looks around.

" _jihoon_." louder.

the seungcheol in front of him fades away.

"jihoon-ssi, wake up," he hears, a deep voice that could only belong to one person.

"don't want to," he groans, cracking an eye open anyway. he immediately shuts it again when he spots mingyu's open collar under his open sweatshirt and all the chest it reveals. it's too much, and knowing exactly what else is under it isn't helping him, either.

"it's almost ten. my dad will be here soon."

jihoon hears clattering around the desk on the other side of the room, mingyu's bags being placed down and zippers opening. he has one afternoon class today, jihoon knows, so he'll sit in here all morning and work, probably.

"why are you asleep here anyway? don't you have a bed at home?" mingyu pauses, then gasps in realization. "did you not go home? did you need to get laid and _not_ proposition me first?"

jihoon opens his eyes narrowly, finds mingyu staring at him, awaiting his reaction, and snorts. mingyu smirks, his canines peeking out — a feature that is quickly becoming one of his more problematic physical characteristics. "not any of your business, but no. i was just tired," he explains as he unfolds himself from the chair and stands.

mingyu turns his attention to his laptop while jihoon pops various joints. he's holding a shoulder stretch when mingyu removes his cap to fix his hair, then replaces it and the hood of his sweatshirt, eyes focused on the screen.

it occurs to jihoon, too late, that he could've done this somewhere else, that maybe the silence should be stifling, but it's not. dream seungcheol echoes in his head again — _"you might be surprised by how little he requires, or how much you actually have available."_

before jihoon can decide what to do, if anything, mingyu speaks. "he's here. i can smell the sulfur."

jihoon snorts again. "he's not that bad."

"you're the son he always wanted," mingyu murmurs. cryptic, but not open for discussion.

jihoon isn't sure what his plan is, isn't thinking when he takes a step towards the desk, only sees mingyu's mouth drawn into a tight line under the shadow of his hood and brim of his hat. maybe he would've come up with a retort, or a non sequitur, or something comforting, or nothing except a hand on mingyu's arm. it doesn't matter, because mingyu was right; the door opens, and his father enters.

he nods at jihoon as he drops a catalog on the desk, little sticky tabs poking out in a few places. "mingyu-ya, place an order today," he says, before turning his attention to jihoon again. "why aren't you outside? are you warmed up?"

"had something come up this morning," jihoon lies, swinging his equipment bag over his shoulder. "i just got here."

🏹

dinner with friends, this particular week, is an _event._ jihoon arrives at the bowling alley, passing through the door adorned with blue and pink balloons, and enters what he can only assume is hell. there's no other logical explanation for the amount of party decorations in the small place.

he spots seungcheol first, waiting at the shoe rental counter near to the entrance. "hey," he calls out as he approaches, leaning against the counter and into seungcheol's line of vision. "i thought they were kidding."

seungcheol shakes his head. "you should know they wouldn't joke about their kids."

"it's a pair of turtles, seungcheol."

"seungkwannie feeds them organic produce, and you've seen how hansol is when he talks about them. kids."

the woman behind the counter sets two pairs of shoes in front of seungcheol. jihoon gives her his own size. "i guess." it's not that he has anything against animals or other people having them, it's just not something he'd do himself.

"don't pretend your bow isn't basically your kid. it's all about what we choose to love and don't want to be without."

a voice from behind jihoon calls, "i love you, too," and seungcheol's eyes soften as jeonghan slides next to him. "hey," he says, smiling at jihoon, before making grabby hands towards one of the pairs of shoes on the counter. "are those mine?"

seungcheol nods and slides them to his boyfriend as jihoon's shoes land on the counter. they all thank the woman, and jeonghan leads them to the lane.

everyone — soonyoung and hansol and their respective boyfriends — is spread out on a large, armless sofa around a table of food, chatting. the two neighboring lanes' tables are also covered, one with a turtle-shaped cake. soonyoung is tucked in between seokmin's legs, his boyfriend's arms wrapped around his shoulders. he waves when he sees jihoon, but makes no effort to extricate himself. hansol and seungkwan stand, the latter coming around the table to embrace jihoon as hansol looks on, grimacing.

hansol has been his friend since they were kids and he knows he doesn't love being touched, so it's fair. jihoon has met seungkwan only a couple of times, but hansol is crazy about him and they have interlocking, identical puzzle pieces on their thighs, so jihoon lets it slide and returns the hug.

when he lets go, seungkwan steps back and claps his hands together excitedly. "everyone's here and has shoes?"

"yes, kwan-ah," soonyoung pipes up. seokmin kisses the top of his head.

for no apparent reason.

couples.

jihoon takes a seat next to seungcheol and changes his shoes as seungkwan details the brackets for bowling. seungcheol and jeonghan will face off against soonyoung and seokmin, then seungkwan and hansol against jihoon and the winner of rock paper scissors from group one, which ends up being jeonghan. the respective winners will have another match to determine the final winning team — and the people who get to cut the turtle cake to reveal the turtles' genders.

it's all entirely absurd, but there's food and drinks and he loves his friends. it's good to get his mind off mingyu for the night, too. or try to, because being a seventh wheel is making him more annoyed than usual.

after jeonghan's third strike in a row — a shock to everyone — soonyoung loses it while jihoon is piling food from a neighboring table on a plate.

"how are you guys cheating?!"

"soon—" seokmin tries.

"they have to be! how is he so good?!" soonyoung bellows, pointing at jeonghan, who responds by holding a hand over his chest like he's been wounded.

"you can't cheat at bowling," seungcheol says calmly.

hansol nods sagely from his seat on the sofa, arm casually resting behind seungkwan's back as he keeps score. "it's true, you can't really cheat at bowling. that's why we chose it. he obviously can't be hyung's partner, though, or he'll end up playing himself."

"so i get soonyoung or seokmin? ugh," he scoffs. "no offense."

"offense taken, jihoon," soonyoung complains, seokmin clinging to his arm. "offense definitely taken."

he can't believe he's trying to win the chance to cut the cake at a _turtle gender reveal party._

he just really likes winning.

seungcheol and jeonghan win round one, predictably. jihoon's teammate ends up being seokmin, and they manage to squeeze out a win over hansol and seungkwan. seungcheol and jeonghan ultimately win, but it's a narrow victory. by the time they get around to cake, so much mock arguing and general nonsense has occurred that jihoon's stomach hurts and more than one person has red eyes from laughing themselves to tears.

seungcheol and jeonghan hold the knife together at seungkwan's insistence, like they would if they were cutting a wedding cake. the similarity isn't lost on anyone, or them. hansol whistles suggestively and soonyoung cheers at them, leading seungcheol to hide his face against his boyfriend's shoulder, where jihoon knows there's a moon to match his friend's sun. the cake is revealed to have one layer of blue and one layer of pink — yet another couple.

there are whoops and cheers, everyone pretending to be as excited about the news as seungkwan and hansol clearly are — or seungkwan, at least. hansol seems excited, yes, but it's hard to see under the heart eyes he's giving his boyfriend.

they demolish the cake in a way only seven men in their early twenties can, clean up as a group, turn in their shoes, and all leave together. more hugs are exchanged outside. seungcheol tries to rope him into dinner the next day with himself and jeonghan, but jihoon declines. he doesn't want to think about why, but he's not sure he can handle the two of them for two days in a row.

hansol interrupts them with a hand on jihoon's shoulder, says, "call me." seungkwan is tucked against his side, holding onto hansol's hand where his arm is draped around his neck. jihoon nods and smiles and they walk away like that, somehow, off to their shared home and bed and turtles.

jihoon goes home alone, as usual, as he prefers to. he washes up, then changes into a pair of sweatpants and a large hoodie before curling up on his sofa with tonks and his television's remote control.


	2. Chapter 2

mingyu's hair is _red._ fire engine, coca cola red. his legs are stretched out on his desk, he's barefoot, and he looks like a tomato. jihoon doesn't even make it all the way inside the office before noticing, leaving him stunned in the doorway as rain pelts his equipment bag.

"your hair," he manages, halfway between a question and a statement and not anywhere near as cool, calm, and collected as he wishes it was.

mingyu looks up from his magazine. "myungho convinced me to do it for a shoot we did yesterday," he explains with a shrug. "what are you doing later?"

jihoon clears his throat and steps the rest of the way inside as he says, "practicing."

mingyu narrows his eyes at him, skeptical. "you always leave before one on monday."

"i never said practicing archery. why?"

"i have to take some photos at a cat cafe. want to come with me?"

"oh."

"it's not a date or anything, i haven't forgotten your position on that. i just thought you probably don't have any friends."

jihoon snorts. "i have friends."

"did i mention the free coffee?"

"what time?"

mingyu smiles. "one?"

"sure."

"cool."

"i should..." jihoon gestures over his shoulder with a thumb.

"yeah, of course."

with the weather the way it is, jihoon opts for the indoor targets in a building adjacent to the main office. his coach joins him halfway through his last round of arrows, hours later, standing in silence as he analyzes his form for a few shots.

"you look good, but you're anxious. i can see it in your release. relax."

jihoon lowers his bow and rolls his shoulders, stretches his fingers. he can't exactly say "yeah, i'm going out with your son later and i'm inexplicably nervous about it", but he's surprised the man noticed.

he makes a mental note to ask mingyu if his dad knows he's gay.

jihoon steadies his breathing and brings his bow up again, taking a perfectly aimed shot at the center of the target.

"better," his coach praises. he lets jihoon shoot a few more arrows before he speaks up again. "the olympic committee contacted me this morning."

"and?"

"i told them your performance in jakarta speaks for itself, and confirmed you're with me."

"i appreciate it. have you heard any other names?"

"no one new. yoo kihyun is an obvious choice. i expect he'll do well at upcoming qualifiers, and they'll probably let him keep the spot."

jihoon hums a small noise of acknowledgement, rolls the nock of an arrow in his quiver between his fingers.

"your problem is often consistency, jihoon-ssi," his coach tells him. "you think too much. trust your body and your training."

"yes, sir."

his coach nods, pleased. a knock on the frame of the door grabs their attention and they swivel. mingyu stands there, his newly red hair blazing in the sun that has evidently come back out since jihoon shut himself inside earlier.

"sorry to interrupt. your new guy is here a little early, and he's freaking me out."

"send him back here, i'll meet him outside."

"okay," mingyu agrees. he doesn't look at jihoon, just turns and leaves.

his coach places an open hand on jihoon's shoulder. "i'll let you know when i hear more from the selection committee. i'll see you tomorrow?"

"yes, sir," jihoon repeats, and then the guy is gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts, his bow, a half-empty quiver, and some targets.

he takes his remaining shots in rapid succession. all it does is land him too many sevens and a sore shoulder. he sighs, packs up his gear, goes through his stretches, and exits the building. 

mingyu asking him to hang out isn't completely out of left field. they've been on good terms for a while, one night stand and its resulting drama apparently forgotten, and it's become obvious that mingyu is a social person. he facetimes his friends in the office enough for jihoon to know their names — the tattooed guy from the bar recognized him one day and made a sound jihoon _still_ doesn't believe was human — and shamelessly flirts on a somewhat regular basis, though he gives up pretty quickly when jihoon doesn't take the bait.

it's not that he's uninterested in _mingyu_ , more that he's uninterested in _anyone_. if he was going to be interested in dating someone, mingyu would be a pretty good target for his affections. especially, jihoon thinks as he swings open the door to the office, mingyu with red hair.

because _god._

he's also thoughtful and kind and doesn't treat jihoon like he's a big deal, unlike people at his last club, but the red hair is really making everything else seem much less important.

"hey, stranger," mingyu says, brightening immediately when jihoon trudges in. he closes his laptop without even looking at it. "i thought i'd drive us. i can bring you back here to get your car later?" he suggests, packing up his own things.

"that's fine. is there room for my bag in your trunk?" he asks, shrugging his shoulder to emphasize its presence. "i don't like leaving—"

a sadistic smirk appears on mingyu's face right before he cuts jihoon off. "my trunk has plenty of room for your equipment, babe," he deadpans, but he throws in a wink at the end that makes it obvious he's fucking around.

jihoon rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible.

mingyu hitches his own bag over his shoulder and reaches into his pocket for his keys before heading out the door. jihoon follows, and maybe glances at his ass, but it's academic. an objectively nice ass that anyone would look at if it was practically sashaying in front of them. mingyu pops open his trunk and gestures at the empty inside. jihoon carefully nestles his bag in the back and then steps away. mingyu closes the trunk, moves around to the passenger side, deposits his backpack and camera bag in the backseat, and then opens the front door and rests his forearms on top of it.

jihoon glares at him and grumbles as he slips inside, "you're too fucking tall."

"comes in handy sometimes," mingyu replies with a shrug, making sure jihoon is inside before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

"that was an open invitation for a joke about my height and you didn't take it," jihoon prods. he hates when people joke about his height, so he honestly doesn't know why he's asking for it.

mingyu looks at him, confusion evident on his face. "should i have? i'd rather help you reach the bottom shelf of cupboards."

"oh my god, i hate you."

"i know."

the car falls quiet as he drives. after a few minutes of alternating between staring at passing scenery and watching mingyu's fingers press into the cover of his steering wheel, jihoon shifts in his seat to better see mingyu's face. "minggu-ya," he says.

mingyu turns his head to look at him briefly, eyebrow raised.

"you know i was kidding, right?"

"hmm? of course," he answers, bringing the car to a stop at a traffic light.

"okay. you got quiet, so..."

"sorry, not your fault. i was thinking about what shots i should get. how do you feel about cats?"

"i agreed to go to a cat cafe, so it's probably safe to assume i don't hate them," jihoon answers, smiling despite himself.

"you could've been in it for the coffee," mingyu argues, but there's no weight behind the words.

"why do you ask?"

"do you mind if i take pictures of you with them? i can edit your face out if you want, and you can see them if i decide to use any, have full approval..." he speaks quickly, like he's nervous.

"what?" jihoon replies, genuinely confused. "of course not. do you know how many pictures of me exist on the internet from competitions?"

mingyu bites his lip at that, and jihoon realizes that while he assumed the answer to his question would be "no" — even hansol isn't aware of how famous he is in the niche of his career — there's a good chance that it might be "yes."

"that's different."

"kim mingyu, have you typed my name into a search engine since we met?" jihoon taunts, trying to suppress his laughter.

mingyu shakes his head. "we're here," he says, lifting a finger off the wheel to point up the block as he brakes.

"mm, convenient timing."

mingyu doesn't respond, focused instead on parking, but jihoon can see the corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. it makes his cheekbones stand out even more than usual.

he's cute.

... objectively speaking.

jihoon knew this before, doesn't know why he's so overwhelmed by it now. he rolls his shoulders back, wincing slightly at the soreness on the right side.

mingyu puts the car in park and turns off the ignition, shifting as much as he can to face jihoon next to him. he looks serious, but before jihoon can squirm away with a joke, he speaks. "i vaguely know what goes on in the archery world, hard to not with my dad being who he is, but i don't really pay attention to the sports media. so i knew of your name before we met, but please believe me when i say i didn't know who you were when i brought you home."

"okay, but that's not what i asked," jihoon quips, because he can't think about it.

mingyu looks so much like a lost puppy it's disarming. "why would i look for old competition photos of you?"

jihoon sighs. "i didn't think you did. the point was yes, you can take pictures of me with the cats."

"okay," mingyu shrugs, pulling his hood up over his head. jihoon can almost feel the mood lift. "i mean, i see you almost every day. if i wanted to stare longingly at photos of you with a bow bigger than you are, i'd take my own."

jihoon rolls his eyes and gets out of the car as mingyu reaches into the back for his camera bag. his quiet laugh rings in jihoon's ears all the way to the entrance of the cafe.

🏹

the cafe is tucked between a restaurant and a bookstore. through the window, jihoon can see a large cat tree with multiple platforms, and a brownish cat with a sleek, dark tail sleeping at the very top.

"have you ever been to one of these before?" mingyu asks, reaching around him to open the door.

"a few times in school. a friend used to drag me before he got turtles." mingyu's forehead wrinkles in confusion, so he adds, "he loves cats, all sorts of animals really, but he can't have a cat in his apartment."

"turtles," mingyu repeats, handing him a pair of slippers from the basket inside the small, outer lobby. "cute."

"they seem to think so," jihoon replies, wrinkling his nose.

three things happen almost simultaneously when they enter: a large, orange tabby circles his feet, mingyu reenters his peripheral vision, and there is a loud crash from behind the desk to his left.

"get your foot _off_ my face or i'm divorcing you."

"you'd miss my cooking too much."

"i taught you half of what you know!" the first voice whines.

he tries to make eye contact with mingyu, but mingyu is squatting down with his camera to take a picture of the cat at his feet, leaving him rooted to the spot as more scuffling sounds and grunts come from behind the desk.

an exasperated " _how did you get that caught there?_ " travels, unfortunately, from a mouth to jihoon's ears and he can't take it anymore. he lowers himself to the floor, clicks his tongue loudly at the cat, and prays to any deity that might listen.

the scuffling stops, then the first voice says, "mingyu?"

"hi, joshy. i brought a friend," mingyu drawls in accented english, but his camera shutter continues clicking. he switches back to korean with heavy aegyo a second later to say, "jun hyung, two iced americanos when you get unstuck, please."

it should give jihoon some sort of emotional whiplash, he thinks, but the red hair apparently wore him out. plus, the orange tabby has made its way into his lap and is purring so loudly he doesn't quite care about anything going on around him.

"hey, you know there are more cats, right?" mingyu asks quietly.

jihoon can hear the smile in his voice but keeps his attention on the cat in his lap. "yep. you can go see them, i'm fine right here."

mingyu huffs an aborted laugh, but eventually stands and walks around him, heading to the back of the cafe. jihoon watches him for a second, annoyed at how long his legs look from the floor.

"whoa. you have an admirer," someone says from his left. "junnie, mingyu's friend has made peace with our demon child."

jihoon mutters his own name, looking apologetically at the man, then back to his lap. he nods his head, hair very blue underneath a blue beanie, like he understands that jihoon _would_ stand to greet them properly, if not for the cat.

"i'm joshua, and jun is down there somewhere," he says, waving his hand vaguely at the floor behind the desk. as if on cue, another man pops up, adjusting his shirt.

"oh, wow. look at you, guma," he coos in the way people speak to babies.

the cat decides the activity is too much for him and vacates jihoon's lap with a raspy, offended-sounding meow.

if jihoon was ever going to be in love with a cat, he thinks guma is probably the one.

he watches the cat leave, heading in mingyu's direction, and lets his eyes drift up his body. his camera is hanging against his chest and his head is tipped back, hands loosely clasped in front of him, seemingly locked in a staring contest with a white, patchy cat on a wall perch just above his head. he looks ridiculous, but jihoon can't seem to look away.

jun raps his knuckles lightly against the countertop, pulling jihoon's attention back to his immediate surroundings. he stands, wiping at the cat hair on his thighs, and jun smiles at him. "two americanos, and some cat treats," he says, placing two tube-shaped packages on the counter.

jihoon thanks him, stuffing the treats in his pocket and grabbing the coffees. 

mingyu is still staring at the cat on the wall perch. jihoon sets the coffees on the table closest to him, then moves to his side. the cat blinks, and mingyu chuckles quietly as he reaches for his camera. jihoon watches him snap a few pictures, deftly adjusting the lens in between shutter clicks, before resting the camera back against his chest and reaching up to rub the side of his subject's face with the backs of his fingers.

"do you need my help with anything specific?" jihoon asks.

mingyu shakes his head, pivoting behind them to grab one of the coffees. "it'll be better if we don't stage anything. they don't open for another hour, so we're alone. just hang out with the cats and i'll try to stay out of the way."

it's an unusual request, if jihoon is honest. he hasn't left his apartment much for a while. when he does, it's with intention: go to the range, go to weekly dinner with friends, go to the club to get laid. mingyu is asking him to do... nothing in particular.

"just hang out with the cats," jihoon repeats.

"yeah. i know that's less direction than you're used to, but you're not bad at improvising, if i remember correctly," mingyu replies coolly, then hides his smirk by pursing his lips around his straw.

jihoon glares out of habit, but decides to let it go.

he grabs his coffee and looks around. there are probably a dozen cats, including the one in the window, guma, and the one mingyu was having a staring contest with. a small cat with spotty stripes and a white stomach catches his attention on a low platform across the room, but sprawled on the back of a chair next to it is a chocolate-colored one with white paws that could not possibly be less interested in their existence. he pulls a tube out of his pocket and heads there first.

mingyu is the most unobtrusive close-range photographer he's ever dealt with. he hangs back, sometimes ignores him entirely and wanders on his own. he talks to the animals nonstop, filling the silence with imitated meows, babytalk about how pretty and good they all are, and occasional shutter clicks. jihoon is so focused on giving them treats and attention that he hardly notices, and when he does, he finds the constant chatter in the background is almost calming.

he doesn't realize that an hour has passed until mingyu mentions it. he's busy feeding the last of the salmon mousse to the small, spotty cat when mingyu crouches next to him and snaps a few pictures, then says, "they're opening soon."

jihoon frowns.

"we could come back sometime, if you want," mingyu offers. it almost sounds hopeful.

jihoon nods and makes a noise of agreement without thinking too much about it, folding himself in half to nuzzle the cat in front of him. she prances away after a few seconds, and he straightens with a sigh before hauling himself off the floor.

🏹

it's raining again when they leave. mingyu grimaces at the clouds in the sky and the puddles on the ground from the inside before tucking his camera into its bag and securing his hood over his head again. after a shared look of dread, they run for the car.

mingyu's hoodie is drenched by the time they get there. jihoon's thin jacket hasn't fared well, either, but the worst is his sneakers.

movement next to him catches his attention. he turns to see mingyu pull his hood down, rest his head against the seat. he closes his eyes, and jihoon watches his chest rise and fall as he catches his breath. he counts ten inhales before mingyu pushes his wet bangs back with his fingers and swallows, then snaps his eyes open and asks, "hey, are you hungry?"

jihoon gives him a dubious look. "i think i've seen porn that started this way."

"really? i _know_ i have," mingyu replies, winking, with his stupid grin. "seriously, though."

"yeah, i could eat, but i'd rather be dry."

"my apartment is close."

jihoon snorts. it _is_ close. closer than driving back to the range for his car and then to his own place. "yeah, i remember."

"i park in an underground garage. you can borrow some dry clothes. i'm a really good cook."

jihoon stares at him for a moment, trying to gauge his expression and whether it's a terrible idea. it's probably a terrible idea, but all he can focus on is a drop of rain creeping down the side of his face to his infuriating jawbone, so he stares at his own shoes instead and says, "yeah, okay."

mingyu is quiet for a few seconds. jihoon listens to the rain on the roof and tries very hard to not look at him. eventually, he mumbles "okay" to himself, then turns the car on and pulls into traffic.

it doesn't take long to get to his place. the rain is still pounding against the car up until mingyu turns into the garage, at which point they're plunged into silence. it's more awkward than usual, like a crackling live wire, but jihoon isn't sure if the feeling is mutual or not. mingyu's side profile is calm, focused on driving deeper into the garage and then parking.

he clears his throat after he turns the car off. jihoon stops him before he can say anything by blurting, "i'm not having sex with you."

mingyu tilts his head. "i didn't expect you would. come on, we need to change out of these clothes. neither one of us has time to get sick."

it's weird to walk into mingyu's apartment during the day. he closes the door behind himself carefully, to avoid the memory of closing it with his back. mingyu disappears into his bedroom, and jihoon works the wet laces of his sneakers loose while he waits, kicking them off when he can, peeling off his wet socks after.

mingyu reappears with clothing bundled in his arms and passes it to him. he's still in his own wet clothes. "you can change in the bathroom."

the sweatpants are too big for him. everything is too big for him, but he expected that. he rolls the waistband of the sweatpants, then cuffs the legs, before pulling on a white t-shirt and a hoodie that hangs down to his thighs. still, it's better than being wet.

when he emerges, he finds mingyu in the kitchen area, pulling ingredients from the fridge and cupboards and arranging them on the counter. he freezes momentarily when he sees jihoon, but recovers quickly. "you can hang those, if you want," he says, pointing briefly to his right.

jihoon does, in a small laundry room, next to mingyu's clothes from earlier.

back in the kitchen, he climbs onto a stool opposite mingyu's ingredients and utensils. he waits for mingyu to stop slicing pork belly before he asks, "does your dad know you're gay?"

mingyu keeps his eyes on the counter as he transfers the pork to a bowl. "we've never talked about it, but i had a friend stay over for a weekend when i still lived at home. he caught us cuddling together during a scary movie and stopped talking about marriage after that." jihoon watches him slice mushrooms, move them to the side, and start cutting onions as he answers. "myungho jokes that he was my father's gay awakening. why?"

"he noticed that i was a little nervous earlier. i don't love lying to my coach, but it's... complicated."

the onions move to the side and he makes rough slices through a small block of tofu. "you didn't want to possibly out me."

"yeah, that's part of it."

mingyu is quiet again, for much longer than he was in the car, but he never stops moving. jihoon inspects his fingertips. he assumes mingyu is unraveling things, realizing that jihoon couldn't say they were going out as friends because why would he be anxious, that maybe something else is going on. not that jihoon even knows what that something is, he just knows that he likes being with mingyu, feels safe and comfortable like he does with hansol or soonyoung.

"do you mind getting rice? it's in the cabinet next to the sink."

jihoon hops down and pads around the counter to the sink. he opens the cabinet and sees the rice, but it's out of reach. he's about to pull himself onto the counter, because that's what he does at home and it's not a big deal, when he feels mingyu's hand on his waist. he would shuffle out of the way, but he's mostly caged against mingyu's chest as he reaches over jihoon's head and grabs the rice himself, so he opts for daydreaming about the floor opening and swallowing him whole.

"sorry, i thought it was on a different shelf," mingyu says, taking a step back.

jihoon turns and punches him in the bicep.

lightly, of course.

he whines anyway. "why?"

"i could've gotten it. i've dealt with being this tall for years and i know you're not stupid enough to think i'm weak."

"i'm sorry. do you want me to put it back?"

"honestly, a little bit," jihoon challenges.

mingyu does — reaches right over him again, so jihoon has to turn his head to avoid being smothered by his chest.

it could be worse, probably.

he steps away again, turning this time to occupy himself with the pot of food, like the last minute never happened. jihoon climbs onto the counter easily, grabs the bowls of rice, and is back on the floor in a few seconds.

they work around each other, mingyu finishing his stew and jihoon taking it upon himself to heat the rice. he rummages around unbothered until he finds dishes and utensils, and sets everything out with a couple of waters from the fridge before returning to his claimed stool as mingyu fills the bowls and slides one over to him.

it smells amazing, but jihoon waits until mingyu takes a seat next to him to dig in. it tastes better than it smells, somehow.

"is it okay?"

jihoon nods. "you weren't lying. where did you learn to cook like this?"

"kimchi jjigae isn't exactly hard, but the recipe came from joshua."

"how do you know them, by the way?"

"you remember jeongguk?"

jihoon nods again, preferring shoveling food in his mouth to giving verbal confirmation.

"his boyfriend — he was at the club that night, too — is close with josh. he connected us when they wanted to open the cafe and i helped with some design stuff."

"like what?"

"signs, the furniture, a bunch of things."

jihoon almost chokes. he has to finish chewing and swallow before he can gape at mingyu. "the furniture?"

"i have more hidden talents than that thing with my—"

"stop," jihoon interjects, holding a hand up. "i got it."

mingyu hums. "so you remember."

"i only have one night stands but that doesn't mean i have them every night. i remember them all."

"anyone you regret not breaking your rules for?"

jihoon locks eyes with him. his expression is serious instead of flirty, and it catches him off guard. he looks back to his bowl.

"maybe," he answers.

"is it me?"

jihoon sighs. he finishes off his food before he says, "new question."

mingyu stands to take their dishes to the sink. he's facing away when he wonders out loud, "no soulmate tattoos for any of them, then?"

jihoon rolls his eyes. mingyu can't see it, but he hopes his distaste is conveyed in his voice. "new _subject_. anything else."

"what did you skip practicing today?" mingyu asks after a beat. "it's been bugging me since this morning."

"piano."

"really?"

"yeah, really. is it that hard to believe?"

mingyu turns to lean his hips against the sink, crossing his arms, and smiles softly at him. "it makes perfect sense, actually. i'm sorry i derailed your day."

jihoon shakes his head. "thanks for derailing my day. it was nice."

🏹

the ride back to the range is quiet. jihoon has just enough time to overthink.

mingyu brings the car to a stop next to jihoon's, puts it in park, and shifts in his seat. he looks at jihoon with almost scary intensity, and it might be then that he realizes he's fucked.

or when mingyu says, "i could've fixed that for you."

"fixed what?"

"your shoulder. you were rubbing at it the whole ride here."

"i didn't realize," jihoon replies, touching it gingerly. "it's fine. it happens, but it never lasts."

"if it does, i have magic fingers," mingyu tells him, eyebrow raised.

"i'll keep that in mind."

he should leave.

open the door, get out, get his bag from the trunk, go home.

"look," he says instead, pulling his knees onto the seat and turning to the side, "i don't have regrets about you. i don't wish i had given you my number that night, but i'm not..." he trails off, trying to find words for feelings he's never had to think or talk about. he should talk to someone before he does this, probably, but as the cogs turn in his head — he's in mingyu's clothes and was in mingyu's apartment and mingyu _cooked_ for him — he realizes he's never wanted to climb someone this badly.

it doesn't help that mingyu is looking at him expectantly, but with absolute patience. it's like he knows exactly what jihoon is thinking but senses the seriousness of an unrequested deluge of gross brain worms called feelings that people talk about as a proper noun.

it all makes it very easy to grab the strings of his hoodie and tug.

he doesn't get it at first, looks down with a pout at the strings weaving through jihoon's fingers, but he figures it out somewhere between jihoon tugging a little harder and bringing his other hand to rest on his shoulder. he makes the tiniest whimpering sound before his eyelids flutter closed, and it evokes the same sense of urgency in jihoon as his bow's clicker. he closes the distance himself, because he knows it's entirely his responsibility after everything, but once their lips brush, mingyu pulls him in.

it takes approximately two seconds for jihoon to decide the console is in the way and he needs to climb over it. mingyu's legs are so maddeningly long that there's plenty of room between his body and the steering wheel, but he breaks from the kiss anyway. he uses an arm around jihoon's back to shift him to the side, reaches down to slide his seat back, and nudges jihoon to the middle of his lap again before kissing him, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world and they're not on their way to dry humping in a car.

someone wanting him is intoxicating, actually. it's always been something his ego gets a kick out of, but he's never felt it deep in his gut, never actively been incredibly interested in making someone feel good independent of what they can do for him, and never felt a shiver down his spine when someone ran their hands under his clothes to lie against it.

he doesn't even have to _try_ to get hard. he isn't sure he can chalk it up to something as simple as "it's been a while", but that's a lot of thinking to do when mingyu's releasing little pleased sounds and running the tip of his tongue against the roof of jihoon's mouth, so he whispers, "touch me" instead.

mingyu bites at his lower lip as he slides his hand from jihoon's back around his ribs and down the front of his stomach. he presses his lips against the spot he bit like an apology, fingers toying with the rolled waistband of jihoon's sweatpants. "i've wanted to do this all afternoon."

"please," jihoon whimpers. he doesn't know where it comes from. doesn't want to think about it.

it's the wrong thing to say, apparently, because mingyu freezes. he pulls his hands away first, then breaks away from jihoon's lips. "i'm sorry, i can't," he whispers brokenly.

jihoon squares his shoulders and wraps his arms around himself protectively. "you can't," he repeats.

mingyu doesn't answer, and he's staring into the space between them like there's something there that only he can see. his eyes are shiny, like he might start crying, and jihoon finds that he _can't_ either, whatever the hell that means. he climbs off mingyu's lap and opens the door.

"open the trunk."

mingyu does, and jihoon collects his things. he gets into his own car and leaves without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh... sorry?

jihoon has holed himself up inside all day, again, out of view of the office. he has no idea if mingyu came in today. his coach stopped by to say hello, but had other people to worry about, so jihoon has been on his own, which is a good thing because his shooting has been terrible, no matter how many times he tells himself to breathe. it's late, the sun will be going down soon, but he hasn't been able to make himself leave.

he feels like an idiot, mostly.

for the first time in his life, he wants something that he can't earn by working harder. mingyu clearly has a hangup, and all he can do is... he doesn't know what to do. you can't wish soulmate tattoos into existence, either. he _knows_ mingyu, doesn't he? he should have one, if he was meant to. he pulls his phone out and opens his group chat.

  


**cheolsoonsolhoon**

when did everyone get their tattoos

like an hour after i met hannie

after our first date! why? 👀

it took forever for me, but seungkwan got his really fast like hyung.  
we second the question of why.

"we"  
is he reading over your shoulder

👋 kwan-ah give your gorgeous man and children smooches from me and seokkie

i think all our bfs read over our shoulders, hyung.  
you're avoiding the question

jeonghan says hi...

just curious.

do you…

does mingyu???

omg ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

what? no.  
practice time thanks for nothing

  


jihoon sighs and pockets his phone, then disassembles his bow, packing the parts into his bag. he's running on autopilot, sheer force of habit carrying him through the motions. he leaves, keeping his head down as he skirts the main outdoor range, at least until a _thunk_ catches his attention. he looks out into the field, not sure who he expects to see, but if he had to make a list of guesses, mingyu wouldn't have been anywhere on it.

he's there, though. unmistakable height and build and fucking hair. with a bow in his hands, shooting at regulation distance.

jihoon is speechless.

" _you're the son he always wanted,_ " mingyu had told him. that statement is even more confusing now, because mingyu is _good_. his form is almost perfect; his shoulder looks a little off, but he still hits high numbers. jihoon pulls his phone out, ignoring the notifications from his group chat, and opens the camera to record a video. in case his friends don't believe him, he tells himself.

mingyu is nocking another arrow and doesn't look over, but his voice carries across the field. "you can come closer. i won't accidentally shoot you or anything."

jihoon stops recording and approaches, stopping a safe distance away, but close enough to more easily have a conversation. the afternoon isn't especially warm, but the skies are clear and the sun is out and a thin sheen of moisture covers mingyu's face and neck. licking it would be a bad move, but the thought creeps into jihoon's head anyway.

"i didn't know you could shoot."

mingyu lowers the bow, still holding the nocked arrow. "i'm sorry, have you met my father?"

"he made you learn."

he raises the bow again, aims, and releases. the arrow hits the edge of the 10-point line. "bingo. i was supposed to be like you, until i tore my rotator cuff playing baseball."

"that sounds like it sucked."

mingyu sighs, then slips a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and raises it to wipe his forehead.

it's an innocuous gesture. jihoon has done the same thing. his toned stomach makes jihoon's gut twist, but that's not the worst part, not what makes his heart jump into his throat and his knees feel like they're going to buckle underneath him.

the simple, delicately lined bow and arrow beneath his left ribs is.

jihoon _knows_ it wasn't there before they met.

"when did you get it?" he asks, his voice pitched low.

it's like it happens in slow motion, the way mingyu is lowering his shirt until he hears the question, then the five stages of grief that rapidly progress across his expression. he lets the bow hang at his side but readjusts his grip on it constantly, stares into the distance as he says, "noticed it the next morning."

"the next morning," jihoon repeats, trying to wrap his head around the monumental shift in the paradigm of their relationship. "and you didn't say anything."

"no," mingyu replies forcefully. "don't put this on me, jihoon. you wanted _nothing_ to do with me. you made that exceptionally clear."

"for like a week! it's been _months_!"

mingyu turns his head and locks eyes with him. he looks sad or scared or... jihoon doesn't know enough to place the emotion there, but it's not normal. "do you have one?"

jihoon crosses his arms in front of his chest. "no," he replies.

mingyu nods his head slowly. the bow at his side shakes, just slightly. "so what are we doing, then? because you wouldn't talk about it yesterday, but i want to be with someone who's meant to be with me, too."

jihoon remembers the way mingyu stared at the space between them, looking sad, and it all makes sense now. he scoffs. "i have a friend i've been close to since we were little kids. we don't have tattoos."

"okay, setting aside the fact that platonic ones are rare, what i'm hearing is that you value choice, then."

"yes, but it's more than... ugh, i suck at this." he groans. "i don't sleep with people twice, _ever_. i've never _wanted_ to," he tries. he wants to convey the seriousness of his feelings, even without a stupid tattoo, suddenly and desperately feels like this is all he wants now that it's slipping away.

"you never had to face them again," mingyu replies with a wry smile. "have you ever thought that maybe there are more people out there carrying marks for you?"

"no," jihoon snaps. "because i hate relationships, and never thought about soulmates. because i used people. i own that much, but they weren't unwilling participants, yourself included." he runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment, tries to relax his muscles that have tightened up. "you just... god, you fucked _everything_ up. we never should've seen each other again, but we did. doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"i don't know." mingyu takes a deep breath, looks up at the sky and pokes his tongue into his cheek like he's trying not to cry. "i don't want to fuck around and fall in love with you and just hope you get a tattoo. i don't want to worry every single day that you'll leave because you feel trapped, or because you met someone and they're yours. my dad did that with my mom and it didn't go well for him. i just can't."

"so that's it," jihoon says.

mingyu crosses his right arm over his chest, resting his hand on his left shoulder. the bow still shakes at his side. "yeah, i guess so. i'm sorry."

jihoon shakes his head in disbelief before turning away. he puts one foot in front of the other until he makes it to his car.

if it was a drama, mingyu might chase after him, but it's not and he doesn't.

🏹

at home, he texts his coach that he's not feeling well and won't be around the next day, then texts soonyoung and asks him to come over. he agrees without asking why, just asks what kind of chicken jihoon wants and says he'll be there in twenty.

he strips his clothes off and leaves them in a pile on the bathroom floor, then gets into the shower. he leans his head into the spray and lets it trickle down the sides of his face and back. as a general rule, he doesn't cry. he's never had a reason to. he keeps everyone distant. but he feels heavy and numb in a way he never has before.

it's extremely disorienting when his eyes fill with tears. a couple spill out before he can stop it, but he does stop it. he straightens and runs wet hands over his face before spending the next few minutes washing his hair and body.

soonyoung lets himself in at the same time jihoon emerges, dressed, from his bedroom.

"chicken and coke for you, chicken and beer for me," he announces gleefully.

"thanks."

they meet in the kitchen, and soonyoung spends a second squinting at him while he takes the food out of the takeout bag, then asks, "do you want to talk about it?"

"not really."

soonyoung hums, then swiftly veers off into a new topic, keeping jihoon talking about anything except mingyu or archery or soulmates while they eat.

it's good. normal. but it also reminds him of the day before, how comfortable he was with mingyu, and the heaviness sinks back into his chest, like it's full of quicksand.

when they're finishing their chicken, soonyoung gets a text from seokmin. he says it's not a big deal, but he looks worried, so jihoon ushers him out. he lets soonyoung hug him before he goes — something he frequently tries and jihoon often rebuffs — laughing at the way his face lights up when jihoon nods to signal it's okay.

he goes to bed feeling a little lighter, at least.

🏹

he wakes up to a phone call the next morning. he groans and hits the decline button without even looking at the screen. ten seconds later, his ringtone blares again. he punches the accept button and puts the phone to his ear. "yeah?" he mumbles.

"i'm sorry to call so early," the person on the other end says, and jihoon realizes it's his coach. "i know you're not feeling well, but i have news i thought you should know."

"okay?" he asks, still not quite awake.

"you're in for tokyo."

jihoon forces his eyes open and clears his throat. "could you repeat that, sir?"

"i just got off the phone with them. the spot you earned in jakarta is yours. i'll let you go, we can talk about the details when you're feeling better."

he assumed he'd have a spot, the committee would be insane not to give him one, but it's still a weight off his very stressed shoulders, and a lump forms in his throat. "thank you, sir."

he makes a noncommittal noise, says, "take care," and then the call drops.

it's impossible to go back to sleep.

he tries, but all he wants to do is tell mingyu. he goes as far as typing out a message, but he deletes it. he can't tell mingyu. he gets out of bed and makes himself breakfast and eats with netflix on in the background.

🏹

he goes out that night, for the first time in a couple months. the idea is hansol's, and probably not a great one, but he feels pretty good about the news from the olympic committee and he's had a low thrumming of sexual frustration under his skin since the other night.

he notices a man notice him as soon as he walks in. the guy is sitting at the far end of the bar, dressed in black jeans with a plain white t-shirt and black leather jacket, hoops in both ears. his long fingers are splayed out on the pages of a small, open notebook in front of him. jihoon sits nearby, but not too close, orders a whiskey, and pretends to be interested in his phone.

he catches movement in his peripheral and looks up, reaching for his wallet, as the bartender returns with his drink.

she waves her hand to stop jihoon, says, "it's on him" with a smile, then disappears to serve more people.

jihoon hates whiskey, but he takes a sip, and when the guy slides off his seat, he knows ordering the same thing his admirer had in front of him was the right choice.

"hey, i'm yoongi," he says as he steps into jihoon's space. his voice is low and something about his cadence feels like a warm blanket.

"that's nice. do you want to get out of here?"

the guy looks surprised for a second, but he tosses back the rest of his drink and says, "ready when you are."

🏹

his apartment is only a minute away from the bar, which is moderately sleazy in and of itself, but jihoon isn't exactly in a position to judge. he tells jihoon he's a producer, and jihoon tells him his name is donghun, and that's the extent of their conversation until jihoon pulls yoongi's shirt over his head and freezes.

across his ribs is an english word in a fancy script. it's where mingyu's bow and arrow is, and it throws jihoon off. he doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to do this.

"everything okay?" the guy asks.

"why aren't you with your soulmate?"

it's insensitive as hell — his soulmate could be dead or something — but oh well.

he looks at jihoon blankly, then says, "why aren't you with yours?"

"what?"

"the camera on your back."

jihoon's mouth goes dry. "the what?"

"you didn't know?"

he inches carefully off yoongi's lap and stands. "bathroom?"

"around the corner."

jihoon shuts the door and stands with his back to the mirror over the sink. he twists his head around and sees it: a simple, delicate outline of an old-school camera in between his shoulder blades, right over his spine.

the tears come before he fully knows what's hit him. he wipes them away with his palm, other arm wrapped around his bare chest.

it's almost comical how unfair the timing is.

after a minute of letting himself feel like the world is crashing down around him in a stranger's bathroom, he blows his nose and splashes water on his face. he looks the opposite of hot, but it's fine, he's not going to be sleeping with yoongi anyway.

back in the bedroom, yoongi is missing. jihoon plucks his shirt off the floor and pulls it over his head, then exits. the apartment is modest, but the layout is such that leaving requires passing the kitchen, and yoongi is there, fully-dressed again and busying himself with a french press.

he doesn't look up when he says, "you can go if you need to, but i have enough for two cups."

jihoon wraps his arms around himself and takes a step inside to lean against the wall. "coffee would be nice. i should tell you my name isn't donghun, it's jihoon."

"weird thing to lie about." he almost sounds amused.

"yeah, maybe."

jihoon stares at the wall beyond yoongi's head until yoongi leans into his space slowly and places a cup of coffee next to him on the counter, then takes his own and sits at a small table. jihoon follows him.

"my tattoo is for someone i work with. serendipity — it's the title of his debut song. he's dating someone else. what about you?"

"a previous one-night stand. turns out he works somewhere that i started needing to spend a lot of time."

"are you always this vague?"

"i've said more to you than i've said to my last three one-night stands combined."

"fair enough. is he unavailable?"

"mm," jihoon hums, then shrugs. "i know you didn't ask me for advice, but you should tell your soulmate the truth. maybe he'll stay with his boyfriend, but he deserves to have all the information sooner rather than later."

yoongi narrows his eyes at him and sips his coffee. "how about this" he starts, pulling his phone from his pants. "i have a feeling you're going to have better luck. we exchange numbers, and i'll tell mine if you tell yours."

jihoon doesn't know why he does it. maybe he's gone soft. he's probably gone soft, definitely. after a moment of hesitation, he reaches for the phone and adds himself as a contact, then calls himself so he can add yoongi later.

"i should get going, but if i tell him, i'm holding you to your word. i know where you live."

"pinky promise," yoongi says, holding his finger out.

jihoon wraps his own around it, sealing the deal. he rinses out his coffee cup in the sink and leaves.

🏹

the next day, he mentally prepares himself on the way to the range. it's not an ideal situation, but surely mingyu will be happy about it. they didn't really _fight_ , just disagreed about if a relationship was viable. jihoon has the proof mingyu wanted, now.

he's still nervous, though. he hopes everything goes smoothly, because he has to leave for tokyo in a week and he can't afford the distraction, just wants everything settled and to know that he has mingyu to come home to. hopefully with a medal.

god, he's as bad as soonyoung was when he met seokmin.

he calms himself down by the time he pulls into the parking lot, but his stomach flips when he sees mingyu's car. he tells himself, again, that it's going to be fine as he gets out. he tries to shake some of his energy out through his arms, takes another breath, and opens the door.

immediately, he knows something isn't right.

the person at the desk is wearing a beanie over dark hair, his head ducked, but his nose is off, his build too slender, his clothes too sophisticated for what mingyu usually wears here. it feels like the terrible moment he saw mingyu's tattoo again — slow motion as the guy raises his head and unleashes a bright grin, then contorts his face into one of concern as he stands from the desk and approaches jihoon, frozen in the doorway.

"are you okay?" he asks urgently, trying to reach out his hands. "here, come—"

jihoon jerks away. "who are you? where's mingyu?"

the guy's eyebrows bunch together, then raise like he's figured something out. "jihoon-ssi, right?"

jihoon stares blankly. the guy seems to take it as confirmation.

"i'm chan. mingyu's my cousin. he left for europe with a friend last night. he didn't tell you?"

"does it _look_ like he told me?" jihoon asks, tone biting. "what friend?"

"um, that's not my—"

jihoon rolls his eyes. "he's my soulmate. would you just tell me who the fuck he went with? jeongguk? wonwoo?"

"myungho."

jihoon chokes out a laugh. of course it's myungho. the horror movie friend, the gay awakening for mingyu's father, the one who made mingyu dye his hair red.

"okay, great, thanks," jihoon mumbles, then — without really knowing what he's doing — he turns around and walks out.

🏹

"why couldn't it happen earlier?" jihoon asks, sniffling and leaning his head on hansol's shoulder, his hands full of the sleeves of the hoodie mingyu loaned him.

"because fate is a fickle bitch."

jihoon went home immediately, in no condition emotionally to be handling projectiles. one phone call, one article of clothing retrieved from his bedroom floor, and five minutes later, hansol was knocking on his door. he spilled the whole story — mingyu's tattoo and everything with yoongi and not being able to see the one person he desperately wants to see.

"i feel so guilty."

"i did, too. mingyu is the only one that can fix that, but for what it's worth, i'm absolutely certain he doesn't blame you."

"he went halfway around the world to get away from me."

"i never told you guys, but seungkwan almost went to new zealand. he was looking at plane tickets, and i was in the other room staring at my leg in shock."

"but you guys were already together."

"sure, but it still bothered both of us that i didn't have a mark. we probably would've fallen apart before i got it if seungkwan wasn't so stubborn," he explains, rubbing circles on jihoon's arm with his thumb. he grins like the lovesick idiot he is, then adds, "i think he thought he'd _make_ me get a tattoo, even if i wasn't supposed to. i don't know, maybe he did."

"you two are so gross."

hansol shrugs.

jihoon sighs.

"can i give you some unsolicited advice?"

"go for it."

"tokyo is important to you. archery has been your happy place for as long as i've known you. spend today moping — i'll stay all day if you want me to, i can have seungkwan come over so you can pick his brain, whatever you want — but don't let this ruin your olympics, because that's going to generate resentment, and resentment will destroy your happily ever after before it begins."

"you're awfully confident this is fixable."

"i only know you've never been like this. it's actually freaking me out a little, i feel like i'm with seungcheol hyung."

jihoon snorts because it's true.

maybe it's the added layer of their soulmates thing, but jihoon misses mingyu every second he's not thinking about something else, feels empty, like he's dragging an extra fifty kilograms around his right ankle.

hansol is right, though: he needs to work around it. the games are too important to him, and mingyu is too important to him for their potential relationship to be a casualty of his inability to compartmentalize.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but my brain felt it necessary to separate this idk

for the next week, jihoon blatantly ignores chan at the range and tries to pretend mingyu doesn't exist. it's difficult, because he sees mingyu every time he looks at his father. his friends are there for him every night, though, as if they set up an assigned rotation for who would make sure he's not spiraling when he's alone.

in all honesty, they probably did.

they throw a small party the night before his flight, and it's the most normal he's felt in a couple weeks.

he naps on the plane. the airline gets his equipment to tokyo safely, which is the most jihoon could ask for.

he has open practice times for the next few days, then qualifiers, followed — hopefully — by the upper brackets of competition. he needs to make use of every minute he can. his coach is due later that day, before his first practice slot, but in the meantime jihoon gets himself settled into his room at the olympic village. he unpacks his clothes into the dresser, and lines his toiletries up in the bathroom. he sets up his laptop on the bedside table because he won't want to do it later, and reads through the information packet on the village and its amenities.

it barely takes an hour. he misses mingyu.

jihoon sighs and drags himself to the shower. he'll need to take another one after practice, but turning his mind off for ten minutes seems worth it.

he's drying his hair, towel slung around his hips, when his phone chirps.

  


**cheolsoonsolhoon**

hoonie hyung~  
the kids say good luck!  
seungkwannie says good luck, too.

thanks.

fighting!!!

hannie wants you to know he loves you  
he demands i send a heart eyes emoji  
😍🤩😘💖🌹🥳🌈🦄🎆!  
that was him

you guys aren't half bad, either.

  
he gets dressed and, with another hour to kill, pockets his keycard and ventures outside for a walk. he meets a guy walking a very small dog and they exchange broken english. he still misses mingyu.

he goes back to his room eventually, after some more wandering, and his coach shows up. they go together to the venue. jihoon sees that he's in tokyo, but it's still hard to believe.

there's a lot of red tape involved in getting checked in. his coach handles most of it. jihoon's equipment is inspected before he's officially considered a competitor. handing his bow over to someone is always nerve-wracking, and he wrings his hands together every second it's out of his possession, but he's finally cleared to go onto the field.

he runs through a full quiver as a warm up, not paying much attention to anyone or anything around him. his coach watches, checking his form and taking notes, but he doesn't speak. jihoon gathers his arrows from the target, takes a swig of water from his bottle, and stretches out his shoulder again.

the whole time, the man behind him is silent. jihoon is on edge waiting for him to say something, because even though it was only a warm up, his shots weren't great.

he gets himself back in position, and his coach moves next to him to better assess what's going on.

jihoon takes his first shot — an 8 — and it's hard not to be pissed at himself. he's about to nock his second when his coach grabs his bow and looks him square in the eyes.

"are you—" he interrupts himself to backtrack, "were you involved with my son?"

jihoon panics, and it must show on his face.

"i know he's gay. i don't care that you are. i care that he suddenly took off to europe, and your attendance and performance went to shit. i just want to know if the two incidents are connected."

jihoon relaxes his arms and decides there's no option left but the truth. "yes, sir, i think they're connected."

"okay. i can work with that," he says, nodding. "you're worrying that whatever is going on is affecting you and that's a self-fulfilling prophecy. take five minutes to really clear your head. you can worry about it later. i'll be back and i want you focused."

jihoon is left, in stunned silence, watching him walk off the field. he sits on the bench behind the shooting line and hangs his head between his knees, taking deep breaths to try to dispel the thoughts swirling in his head.

🏹

the next day, his practice slot is in the afternoon. he gets breakfast and then visits the gym to keep himself busy, as promised to his coach after he returned yesterday. he did okay then, but he absolutely needs to be in better shape today.

as he's waiting outside the practice range for his turn, seungcheol sends a picture of jeonghan with a puppy to the group chat. soonyoung does a lot of keyboard smashing before seungcheol announces it's theirs. jihoon promises to meet her when he gets back.

he gets a text from his coach, asking to meet at jihoon's room. it's an odd request, but he says it's important, so jihoon slings his bag over his shoulder and heads back to the village.

it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize it's a setup.

he doesn't realize, at all, until he rounds the corner leading to his room and sees faded red hair peeking out from under a black beanie, just over the top of a large rolling suitcase.

"i thought you were in europe," he calls, trying to keep his steps even, measured.

mingyu waits until jihoon is standing in front of him to respond. "i was. paris. channie told me some lunatic was incredibly upset i was gone."

"i was surprised."

"he said you called me your soulmate."

"so you came all the way here because of that?"

"nope. my dad told me to get on a plane or he'd cut me off. called me a dumbass."

"sorry, that's probably my fault."

mingyu shrugs. "i didn't need much convincing. i missed you. was thinking about coming anyway."

"i... can we go inside?" jihoon asks, gesturing at the door with his keycard.

mingyu hold his arms out. "yes, please, but i'm so exhausted i need you to help me up."

jihoon extends his hand without a second thought. mingyu grabs it with one hand, wraps the other around jihoon's wrist, and plants his feet. jihoon tugs him up, and they go inside.

he gets a text from his coach as he's emptying his pockets, letting him know his practice slot has been switched. he has hours before he needs to go back.

"i think your dad ships us."

"why do you say that?" mingyu asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"he told me to meet him here and i found you, and he just let me know he changed my practice slot."

"i told him about the tattoo last night, so it's possible."

"about that—"

"no, wait," mingyu interrupts. "i thought about this for half the flight."

"only half?" jihoon asks, but mingyu ignores him.

"i was going through the louvre with myungho and there was this painting. a landscape, pretty dark, except for a single beam of sunlight through the clouds. it made me cry and myungho had to haul me out of the museum to a bar, it was a whole thing, but i eventually realized... you're the sunlight. i told you i didn't want to fuck around and fall in love with you without knowing you had a tattoo, too, but i neglected to realize that i already was, and i was such an _asshole_ , you tried to tell me i was different and i still didn't— you're crying, shit."

jihoon's eyes have been leaking a lot recently. it's exhausting. he doesn't bother wiping them. "you compared me to literal art, you ass, what am i supposed to do?"

"nothing in that place was as beautiful as you when you're shooting, but that wasn't my point."

"i know it wasn't."

"i should've told you months ago. i should've listened. i decided what i meant to you based on a stupid system that no one even fully understands and—"

jihoon places a finger over his lips, silencing him. "i tried to sleep with someone else. random guy. we didn't do anything. i lied about my name and ended up crying in his bathroom because..." jihoon pulls the back of his shirt up and over his head, then turns and holds his breath.

mingyu lets out a soft gasp. fingertips carefully trace the outline of the tattoo. he feels hands at his waist, pulling him backwards, and then lips press between his shoulders. arms wrap around his waist and wet eyelashes flutter closed against his skin.

jihoon closes his own eyes and tries to commit the moment to memory.

"i'm so sorry," mingyu whispers.

jihoon twists in his arms and climbs onto his lap. mingyu pulls his shirt off his arms and sets it to side, then his hands return to jihoon's back, already knowing exactly where the mark is, like they're drawn there by a magnet under jihoon's skin.

"i'm sorry, too. if i'd gotten the thing a day earlier... but i think i had to know what losing you felt like."

"i have good news for you, babe."

"what's that?"

"you never have to again, if you don't want to."

it sounds cocky, but it's laced with insecurity. jihoon smiles, leans back down and presses kisses against mingyu's forehead, nose, cheeks, and finally his pout.

"never sounds good to me."

🏹

  


**yoongi**

hey. you told your soulmate yet?

nope. we had an agreement.

yeah, but i was hoping i wouldn't have to do this.  
  
in my hotel room right now.

you could just be sending me some random guy.

do i strike you as the kind of person to let a random guy stay and sleep in my bed until the next day? 🙄  
it's the middle of the afternoon.

fair point.  
well, fuck. i didn't think you'd do it.  
side note: nice.  
side note: hotel room?

he's alright i guess.  
i'm in tokyo for work.  
not important.  
anyway. it's your turn.

😬

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact the painting mingyu was talking about is [real](https://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notices/ray-sunlight).


	5. Chapter 5

**minggu**

  


  
me when my boyfriend doesn't pick me up on time

  
me when i'm waiting for my boyfriend's coffee  
and also miss him terribly

it's been a long thirty minutes.

it would be easier to just say you miss me, too.

i take no responsibility for psychological harm to your friends from being left with mine without supervision

they're strong. they'll be okay.  
wonwoo's the only one who will be on time anyway.

if you say so.  
... i miss you too.

🥰  
got it. be back soon.

🏹

jihoon came back from tokyo with a silver medal — won with mingyu in the stands — and a relationship. he told seungcheol, soonyoung and hansol, and jeonghan created a new group chat to "organize a celebration of jihoonie fucking the same person for the rest of his life" five minutes later. nothing about the medal, because jeonghan is jeonghan, but he's unfortunately right: his relationship is more surprising and deserving of celebration than the medal.

the idea to go to the beach was seungkwan's, and the idea to invite mingyu's friends so they could be absorbed into the group was seokmin's. mingyu loved it. his friends loved it. so now, jihoon is in mingyu's car, back against the door and knees on the seat, on the way to the beach.

he'd rather be at home unwinding from the stress of the games with mingyu's help, but there is something intriguing about the prospect of soonyoung's chaos being inflicted on strangers.

"how crazy is soonyoung going to be?" mingyu asks, as if he read jihoon's mind.

for all jihoon knows, he did.

he hasn't met soonyoung, but they've briefed each other on their friend groups, somewhere between all the sex, eating and sleeping that has been the — frankly, excellent — week since they got home.

"hard to know," jihoon replies. "are you ready to acknowledge wonwoo and myungho might be in trouble?"

"nope. i think they'll feed off the insanity."

"god, no."

"if you get overwhelmed, we can fool around in the bathrooms." he says it like he's making some great sacrifice.

jihoon rolls his eyes. "my hero."

"i thought it was a very romantic offer."

"i appreciate it, babe."

mingyu smiles, smug as hell. it's something he's been doing a lot of. he feeds off attention and praise in the most annoying way, but jihoon means all of it. he might not normally say it, but if something as simple as voicing it can make mingyu feel loved, he's more than willing to do that.

jihoon reaches over and runs his hand up mingyu's thigh, because why not.

mingyu turns his head momentarily, glaring behind his sunglasses, which was the intended reaction anyway, so jihoon laughs and pulls his hand away. mingyu doesn't take his eyes off the road again, just snatches his hand and puts it back on his leg before laying his arm across the back of jihoon's seat.

it's nice — a quiet and comfortable calm before the storm.

🏹

they're only out of the car for a few seconds, gathering the things they brought from the trunk — jihoon the cooler and mingyu the blankets and towels — before soonyoung's laugh can be heard, followed by an extremely loud and slightly nefarious cackle he doesn't recognize.

"sounds like channie beat us here."

"and like he's getting along with soonyoung. weird."

mingyu closes the trunk and locks the car. "why were we worried again?"

jihoon doesn't know, truly. he shrugs, then squints towards the beach where a volleyball net has been set up. "i think they're _all_ here, except josh and jun." he sees all of his friends, jeongguk and presumably his boyfriend from the club clinging to his back, a few outlines he doesn't recognize, and a distinct lack of cat cafe owners.

"oh, they'll be late, joshua drives like he's eighty."

" _jihoonie!_ " is hollered across the beach the second they reach the sand, accompanied by soonyoung waving his arms above his head in the distance.

mingyu shifts everything he's carrying to one arm and puts his hand on jihoon's back, palm flat between his shoulders. it's the most reassuring thing he could do or say at that moment, and jihoon loves him so fucking much.

as they get closer, mingyu points to the chairs set up next to the net and says, "wonwoo and myungho," then the clingy couple building a sand castle a few meters away. "jeongguk and taehyung, but you sort of know them already."

jihoon feels a pang of leftover jealousy, just hearing myungho's name, but it subsides pretty quickly. he focuses instead on pointing and naming off all of his friends and their significant others.

seungkwan's mouth falls open when they approach. he elbows hansol, and his falls open, too. jihoon is confused, but distracted by soonyoung literally crashing into him, knocking him to the ground and laughing hysterically. he looks around soonyoung's shoulder to where mingyu should be, pleadingly, but he's not there.

"congratulations, best friend!"

"hansol is my best friend," jihoon groans. "get off me, you worm." it's too warm to be smothered.

soonyoung rolls to the side. "but you're mine!"

"i thought i was your best friend," seokmin whines, in rejected, sad puppy mode, but clearly a second from laughing.

"you're the love of my life, seokkie."

"second only to kimchi!" seungcheol yells.

jihoon hears a snort from the chairs to his right. soonyoung looks affronted, but seokmin breaks and his face softens immediately at the sound of his boyfriend's laughter. seokmin lets himself fall into the sand at the same time a hand is extended. he follows the arm and finds hansol, so he grabs it and is pulled to his feet. his friend walks him a couple of meters away, and jihoon wonders what's so important.

"so, hyung, fun fact about your mingyu. he's kind of the reason me and seungkwannie got together."

that would be important enough, he thinks. "he's what? _how_?"

"they were in a class together. i got jealous seeing them talking one day. never crossed our minds that it could be the same mingyu."

jihoon looks around and finds his boyfriend standing by the net, seungkwan next to him. they seem nervous. "huh. thanks for telling me, but why do they look so worried? obviously it's not a big deal."

"you know how seungkwan is when we're all together. don't tell him i said this, but he really looks up to you."

jihoon doesn't know what to do with that. it really isn't a big deal — it's actually kind of cool that mingyu gave hansol a shove and finally got him to confess. he kicks off his sandals next to their cooler and heads to the net.

"seungkwannie, when are we starting this game?"

the nervousness is wiped from both of their faces.

"soon!" he replies, clearly excited at the prospect of everyone playing volleyball with him.

"josh and jun should be here any minute," mingyu adds.

jeongguk joins them, jogging up next to mingyu, as if he sensed there might be something happening. he's wearing a sleeveless top and jihoon notices even more tattoos on his upper arms. "is it time?" he asks eagerly.

"waiting for the husbands," mingyu replies. "is tae up for it?"

"he'll whine, but i promised he could tie me—"

mingyu drowns him out with random, loud words, fingers in his ears. jeongguk laughs. jihoon tries to pull mingyu's hand away and fails.

seungkwan, presumably tired of their shit, claps his hands together. "everyone! come, come! we're splitting up couples! seungcheol hyung, i see you sneaking a beer and you're not allowed on my team!"

seungkwan takes volleyball very seriously.

jihoon spins in time to see jeonghan snatch the beer and take a sip, maintaining eye contact with seungkwan the whole time.

"yoon jeonghan!" seungkwan is officially exasperated. hansol is watching, an adoring smirk on his lips.

"you can't split us up now, kwan-ah!" seungcheol laughs, pulling jeonghan against his side.

"jeonghan is _evil_ ," mingyu whispers.

jihoon is smiling so hard his face hurts. "oh, yeah, definitely."

"i like him."

jihoon glances around. jeongguk has wandered back to taehyung and is tugging him away from the sand castle. wonwoo and myungho seem to be chatting with a very animated soonyoung and chan, but they keep sneaking glances at each other when the other person isn't paying attention, which is interesting. he finally spots seokmin up towards the road, headed back to them with his new friends in tow. jun is wearing the biggest sun hat jihoon has ever seen.

"they're here," he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

jihoon can see seokmin pointing at people, likely reciting names for everyone on their way to the net. mingyu wanders away to meet them, and jihoon watches in amazement as he pulls his shirt over his head when he passes jihoon's sandals and the rest of their things.

seungkwan whistles lowly. he thinks he hear hansol growl, then fingers snap near his face. "hyung, you're drooling."

"why shouldn't he?" seungkwan chimes in.

"hello? boyfriend?" hansol speaks in pout.

"you know i think you're gorgeous, nonie, but that is an equally incredible specimen."

"hello? boyfriend?" jihoon chokes out between laughs.

"right, right. congratulations on that."

hansol rolls his eyes and stalks off to get the others who have congregated around wonwoo and myungho, leaving jihoon and seungkwan alone.

"you want to be the other captain?" seungkwan asks, shrugging.

"you're going to make me take cheollie hyung and jeonghan, aren't you?"

"yeah, but i'll let you keep mingyu."

"nope, he's all yours. i want to watch him."

🏹

the game goes about as well as expected with couples split up. there's a ton of arguing, too many spikes directed at significant others, two kisses through the net — jeongguk and taehyung, and soonyoung and seokmin — and a lot of misses by jihoon because, honestly, mingyu is hot.

the shocker comes when jihoon's team is a point away from winning. it's myungho's serve. wonwoo calls for a timeout next to jihoon, shirt halfway over his head, but it's too late. jihoon watches in horror as the ball flies over the net and hits wonwoo in the chest.

everything is a flurry of activity after that. wonwoo yelps. myungho yelps. mingyu runs around the net to wonwoo, who's doubled over. chan stands off to the side, hand clapped over his mouth.

"we win!" jeonghan shouts.

"not the time, hyung!" seungkwan yells.

soonyoung snorts.

taehyung gasps. jihoon sees him pointing, and follows it to myungho's calf. wrapped around the side are flowers that weren't there a minute ago.

he looks over, almost certain of what he'll see, but his breath still catches when the same flowers are on wonwoo's leg: matching sakura trees.

"oh my god!" chan exclaims, gesturing wildly between the two. seokmin does the same a second later. myungho is crouched in the sand, hiding his face in his hands.

it's the weirdest fucking game of volleyball jihoon has ever played.

🏹

there's food, afterwards. there are grills along the grassy area next to the road, and they make use of two of them. mingyu's shirt is back on, which is a shame, but he _is_ manning one of the grills — with "help" from soonyoung — so jihoon understands. jun and joshua bicker at the other one. jeonghan is with them, calm for once. seokmin is expanding the sand castle with jeongguk and taehyung. last jihoon knew, seungkwan was bugging chan for embarrassing stories about his cousin. they're still sitting together, hansol with his head in seungkwan's lap.

wonwoo and myungho can be seen in the distance as small specks against the horizon, hands clasped between them as they walk along the water. they were excused from food preparation to talk. seungkwan nearly threatened them into it, because they knew _of_ each other before today — wonwoo a film student, myungho a photography one — but apparently had never properly met.

it's a lot, jihoon imagines.

"how's it feel?" seungcheol asks, coming up beside him.

"hm?"

"being the one responsible for that," he explains, gesturing in wonwoo and myungho's direction with his head. "being an olympic silver medalist. having a soulmate."

"i think seungkwan is the one responsible for that, and good on both counts."

seungcheol shakes his head. "without you, we never would've done this. without mingyu dragging them both here, who knows how long they would've gone unmatched? and soonyoung wouldn't have met chan. jeonghan wouldn't have met joshua. seokmin and jeongguk? no chance."

and he's right, jihoon supposes, it's just overwhelming to think that his decision to go home with a stranger because he was bored and not shooting well, his choice to switch coaches in selfish pursuit of a medal, led to all of this.

"yeah, i guess so," he agrees.

mingyu points at him with the tongs in his left hand and makes a finger heart with his right. jihoon rolls his eyes, but smiles involuntarily.

every choice comes with a consequence, actions cause ripples, and fate? she really is a fickle bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're still here, hi! thank you! i hope you're okay! because i'm not! aljflakdfjdf
> 
> this absolutely, positively would not exist without [triviaeuphoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triviaeuphoria/), who has been the most consistent motivation and validation and sounding board when i needed to talk out my arguments with jihoon at 3 am because god there were so many of them. she also writes and is working on some neat things and y'all should go sub or something.
> 
> special shoutout to my cat, who listened to me talk to myself for like an hour one afternoon when i was trying to understand jihoon's emotional state and where it was going.
> 
> i started this because i wanted to write jihoon mishearing "top here often?" at the bar. that was it. haha. i thought about him being vaguely demi, for a reason i never used, but i still consider it true. i thought maybe 5k, then maybe 10k, then i gave up entirely on guessing. i've had the verkwan sidefic i recently posted in my head since like 7k.
> 
> i never choose an ending. it almost always comes out nowhere and smacks me in the face, and in this case i was in bed writing on my phone and _cried_. so hard. because five or six months into the fandom, mingyu wormed his way into my bias line because of this fic. it has ruined my life, but been a lifeline during some of the darkest fucking days. and it's a whole ass universe now, and i fully intend to write stories for every one of these couples other than the verkwan that's already done, because i want to give all of these characters more than i could in a fic that was supposed to be jihoon-centric.
> 
> let me know which side fic i should write first, or don't, idk. no pressure. thank you again for spending the time it took to read this, and thank you in advance for any kudos and comments. i'm getting sappy i'm gonna go lakdjfladf. <3


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